Charma’s Point of View:
Waking up in the woods on the cold, hard ground was not really how Charma would have imagined what could possibly be one of her last days alive. She groaned as she sat up, her back aching from a night on hard soil. She rubbed her eyes and searched through her backpack, which she barley grabbed when she fled the camp. Since it was lights out this time, maybe she would be able to find something useful. Digging through the small backpack, she pulled out a silver canteen. A grin spread across her face as she unscrewed the cap and took a drink of the cool water.
After drinking almost half the canteen, she pulled out a sharpened door wedge from her the bottom of the bag. This would be her only weapon. She looked up at the sky, trying to tell the time. She guessed it was around 9 in the morning; this was the longest she had slept since the beginning of the games. Packing up her stuff and putting out her small fire , she then set off into the woods, hoping not to run into either of her two remaining opponents.
Van Vark’s Point of View:
In the early light of what would be the final day of the games, Van Vark found himself oddly warm. Usually, even when he did have three other teammates surrounding him, he still felt cold and unsafe. Now, with only three tributes remaining, his mind began to flow freely. Thoughts of returning to his classroom and teaching math swirled in his brain. Then, finally, for once in this terrible game he had participated in for the last eight days, he smiled.
After a couple more minutes of laying on the soft soil beneath him, he rose up and stood, looking at the cornucopia. “Look at all of these weapons, all of this food, all of this medicine!” he says, getting louder and more excited with each realization. “I have nothing to be afraid of. With all of these supplies, I am untouchable.” He smiles as he picks up an apple, rolling it in his hands looking over it. “I can win,” he says with a slight smile. “I will win.” He looks up at the cornucopia once more before sinking his teeth into the apple.
Thorson’s Point of View:
It was quiet in the woods, as it always was. It was a little before dawn and only a few creatures stirred in the brush below. Thorson, who sat in a tree overlooking his makeshift camp, waited for an animal big enough to eat to stroll past him. The morning air was crisp, and the scent of blooming flowers filled his nose. It was a shame that a place so beautiful could be associated with so much death. Then, something moved. Thorson quickly pulled an arrow from his quiver and knocked it on his bow. He took a deep, slow breath as he drew back his bow. Taking aim at the rabbit that had just hopped into camp, he let the arrow fly. Seconds later, he was scaling down the tree to collect his prize.
For Thorson, the last eight days were like an extended hunting trip except normally his prey wasn’t trying to kill him and didn’t have opposable thumbs. As he cooked his rabbit over the fire, Thorson began to think. He ran through the tributes he knew to be dead and started to think about the tributes still alive. “Charma isn’t much of a physical threat; it’s amazing how she is still alive.” He laughs to himself. “Now, Van Vark is a different story,” he said rubbing his chin. “He is strong and smart. In order to defeat him, I will have to out brawn him.” He said to himself with a laugh, “That I can do.” He smiled as he laid down to rest, keeping his bow at the ready.
From his spot in the control center, former victor and Gamemaster, Hancock, had the best view of the games of all. He sat at his desk tapping his fingers and periodically looking at his watch, waiting for it to strike noon. He smiled as his watch was finally about to give him what he wanted. In a mere three minutes, the tributes would soon find themselves faced with the pinnacle of the games: The Finale. Hancock leaned back in his chair with a chuckle as the time drew nearer to the end of his first games. One more time he looked at his watch. This time an even bigger grin spread across his face as his watch read, 12:00.
Inside the arena, a loud alarm blared, waking each of the three remaining tributes. Then over the intercom, Hancock’s voice rang down over the arena. “Tributes, the time has come. I suggest you get up and gather your things. It’s time for the finale.” He laughs before ending his announcement. They waited and watched, confused about what was about to happen.
Then, all of a sudden, the ground beneath Thorson and Charma began to shake. It started as a soft rumble and grew to a violent rocking. Thorson quickly grabbed his things and began to take off through the woods, trying to avoid whatever was coming after him. Charma was a little slower gathering her stuff and only had enough time to grab her door wedge before seeing what was barrelling towards her. The arena was falling apart, the ground behind her began to concave and disappear into thin air. She quickly turned and ran, leaving her backpack to be swallowed by the arena.
Van Vark looked around, confused. The shaking was still very soft as he got up from the ground. He looked into the trees and at first only saw birds fleeing from farther back in the forest. Then, he began to see the trees begin to disappear, one after another. He quickly grabbed his compass and turned to face the woods once again. More trees had disappeared and the soft rumble began to turn into a more violent shake. “What is this?” He thought to himself. He crouched down, ready to face whatever mighty beast was about to emerge from the woods he had avoided nearly the entire game.Then out of the trees burst not a creature, but a man. Van Vark looked at him with terror. Standing a mere 30 yards away was Mr. Thorson, the one person who could possibly bring him down, at least in his eyes. Then, on the opposite side of Van Vark emerged Charma from the trees, just in time for the arena to crumble behind her. The tributes looked at each other, then looked at their surroundings … what used to be their surroundings. The entire arena surrounding the cornucopia had crumbled and disappeared into thin air. All that was left was a large circle surrounding the cornucopia and the tributes.
Once again Hancock’s voice rang down upon the tributes. “There, that’s better.” He said with a slight chuckle. “Without the precious woods, there will be no more hiding and no more avoiding each other. The games will end here, and now.” “Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor.” He simply smiles to himself and ends the announcement. His job is done; all that he has left to do is wait.
The three tributes looked at each other. Charma with fear in her eyes, Van Vark with confidence in his, and Thorson with fire in his. This is what he what he had been waiting for.
“At last, it has finally come, the moment where I win the games,” Thorson says arrogantly.
“That’s where you are wrong, Thorson. I have come too far to just sit here and let you kill me,” says Van Vark, his grip on his compass tightening.
“So be it,” says Thorson in return.
Then Thorson draws his bow and fires an arrow at Van Vark, striking him in the chest. He lets out a small grin as his arrow finds its target. Van Vark too smiles, breaking off the arrow in his chest.
“You are going to have to do better than that,” he says. Thorson’s smile fades as he begins to draw his bow once again. This time, however, Charma is there and stabs his hand with her door wedge, making him drop his bow. Thorson lets out a cry of pain before pushing Charma away.
“You two may have been allies before, but now, it’s either killed or be killed,” says Thorson clutching his hand.
“He’s right. you know,” says Van Vark looking at Charma. He then runs at Charma with his compass, looking for one more kill, one more chance to keep him alive. Too bad Charma was too quick for him, and too bad that Thorson was also there to grab him.
“Is this good enough?” he says with a smirk. Then, he tosses Van Vark over the edge of what’s left of the arena.
Charma didn’t waste anytime in attacking Thorson. Immediately after he tossed over Van Vark, Charma had once again drove her door wedge into Thorson. He yelps as the wedge stabs him once again. He falls to his knees. Then, he falls over face first to the ground. The cannon sounds.
Charma stood over Thorson, frozen in her place. She had a baffled look on her face and near tears in her eyes.
“I did it; I won!” She exclaimed throwing her hands in the air. “In your face Thorson!” She says with a laugh. “No, actually, it’s in your face,” says Thorson as he stands, throwing Van Vark’s compass at Charma.
All she could get out was “How…..” Then she collapsed, and the cannon sounded.
Thorson stood, out of breath, smiling. Then, over the intercom he heard, “Ladies and gentlemen, your victor of the 2nd Annual Teacher Games!” Thorson drops to his knees; it’s over, it’s finally over. He was just lucky that Van Vark’s cannon didn’t go off until he fell over after Charma got him. He had outmuscled and outsmarted people in the games, and this is what allowed him to win.
As he said, “I will simply beat my competition into submission. Period.”
End of the Games
Final Vote Tally
Van Vark- 95; Charma- 116; Thorson- 123
Chase Petty (firstname.lastname@example.org)